


Close

by Emersis



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Angst, Claustrophobia, Come get y'alls Tommy and Tubbo giving hugs cause they need them, Cuddles are good for the soul y'all, Gen, Hugs, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Not really described much but I rated it as teen anyway, Platonic Cuddling, They really gotta stop making it so easy to hurt them lol, Tommy gets trapped, Unedited unbetaed we die like revolutionaries, but not really, it works out in the end don't worry :), kinda at the end of the second chapter but its there lol, no shipping!!, oop it's def come in for the third chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26733616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emersis/pseuds/Emersis
Summary: It starts as a joke. One he carries on a little too long maybe, sure, but a joke nonetheless. He knows Wilbur is in a dangerously bad mood, but there have been so many times he had pulled similar moods to something better by pressing with jokes until it finally got through and he could make his brother laugh again. He doesn't see how it could fail, doesn't see why this time would be any different, doesn't even stop to consider that Wilbur's dangerous mood may take advantage of trouble when Tommy manages to find it. Why would he? It had never happened before.But there are firsts for everything, and all it takes is placing redstone for everything to go wrong.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 93
Kudos: 1776





	1. Chapter 1

It starts as a joke. One he carries on a little too long maybe, sure, but a joke nonetheless. He knows Wilbur is in a dangerously bad mood, but there have been so many times he had pulled similar moods to something better by pressing with jokes until it finally got through and he could make his brother laugh again. He doesn't see how it could fail, doesn't see why this time would be any different, doesn't even stop to consider that Wilbur's dangerous mood may take advantage of trouble when Tommy manages to find it. Why would he? It had never happened before. 

But there are firsts for everything, and all it takes is placing redstone for everything to go wrong. 

He's in a little room he dug into the side of the ravine when it happens. A simple misplacement triggers the mechanisms he was standing on. He abruptly finds himself being shoved upwards, and the sudden imbalance sends him tumbling. That alone wouldn't be that bad, but unfortunately for him he's tired and unlucky today, and instead of a simple and clumsy fall his leg manages to catch the inner workings of the piston. He feels sharp metal and cogs and burning pain as the leg is forced into an awkward position caught against the central pillar and then twisted oddly as gravity carries him down. 

His first instinct is to scream in panic, his second is to roll himself under the wooden platform of the piston, chest up, to relieve his caught leg of the awkward angle. He catches sight of Wilbur peeking around the corner as he does, and his third action becomes yelling for Wilbur to help him, straining to keep the tremble and pain out of his voice. Hoping to avoid the inevitable of Wilbur mocking him for getting injured by a piston, of all things. 

He does not expect Wilbur to double over in laughter at his expense, at least not before rescuing him. He does not expect Wilbur to pull out cobblestone with a manic look in his eyes. 

"No, no, Wilbur I actually need your help please. I actually need help." He rambles, trying to pull his leg free as Wilbur approaches him, and he can't stop his eyes from fixing on the cobblestone Wilbur had, stomach already sinking in some mix of dread and fear. 

He would like to say he didn't expect the placement of said cobble, but one look at Wilbur's face tells him it's coming. That doesn't mean its any less terrifying when the loose stones are suddenly filling the space beside and above him, leaving him trapped with only the tiny, dark space under the raised wooden platforms of the pistons. What he doesn't expect, however, is the glimpse of Tubbo and Techno peering at him and laughing as well before the final stones are placed. 

"This isn't funny anymore!" He shouts, "Wilbur, _please._ Tubbo, Tubbo let me out please." And this time he can't hide the shake in his voice as the rocks settle above him, pushing the platform above down slightly. 

But they just laugh at him from outside and carry on with their conversation as if they don't hear him. 

"I have extreme claustrophobia." He tries, and the laughter just ramps up. 

He isn't surprised, really, they know him and have mined with him enough to know otherwise, but what he did fear was situations out of his control. Of his helplessness, here alone in the dark. 

He readjusts uncomfortably in tiny movements that make him all the more aware of his limited space, gradually lining up his hands in the direction of the stones Wilbur had placed. He pushes at them and is rewarded with them shifting under the pressure. It becomes easier to breathe for a blissful moment before he hears a huff from outside, and then the addition of more stones. He shakily fights back the panic that accompanies the sound. There had to be something he could do to get himself out. Wilbur couldn't, wouldn't keep him here forever, surely. 

He once again tries pushing the cobblestones and hears Wilbur laugh as he presses them back into place. A few loosen with the movement and clatter into his already tiny space. His body shakes and he can feel his pulse in his throat, constricting him. 

It's Wilbur and Tubbo and Techno outside of the hole doing this. They were supposed to be the people he could trust. His older brothers and his best friend. The people he could go through anything with. 

He lays there for a moment, trying to keep himself from shaking bad enough to touch anything that he wasn’t touching already, terrified that any movement may be one that sent the rocks filling up the little space he had, terrified a movement from his stuck leg may knock something and bring the platform of the piston closing on him with a deadly, crushing force. 

“Wil, _please._ ” He tries again, and this time he doesn’t even try to hide the terror that shakes him. 

Again, he hears laughter, and then the telltale sound of sand being poured. 

He wouldn’t, would he? Sand was a whole different game than cobble. He puts his hands against the stones again, and when he gives a cautious press it’s so much heavier than before. Little grains of it trickle in against his fingers at the movement. 

“I’m gonna. I’m going to tell Phil on you. Let me out Wilbur.” He shakily yells through the stone and sand. 

“Oh.” He hears his brother say, and there’s a split second of relief before it's crushed as Wil continues. “I actually really want to talk to Phil, think I may go say hi.” 

But the terror of being left like this doesn’t really set in until he hears Tubbo and Techno agree, and the faint shuffling of footsteps fading away. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, desperately hoping without much hope at all that they’re just doing it to get a rise from him, that any second, they’d open it up and pull him out. 

Surely they wouldn’t leave him like this, with so many ways of being killed hanging over him. Surely they were aware of how much danger he was in. Surely they wouldn’t just abandon him. 

But the silence stretches on for agonizing minutes, and he can't deny it forever.

They shouldn't leave him stuck in a mechanism that could close and crush his chest and kill him mere moments. They shouldn't leave him buried under stones he couldn't currently hope to move. They shouldn't leave him with the threat of sand rushing through the cracks, filling his mouth until breathing becomes impossible. They shouldn't leave him in a tiny, dark space that brings back memories of cramped blackstone tunnels and betrayals (Surely this isn't them betraying him, right? He _needs_ them. He _needs_ the only family he still has.). They shouldn't leave him to deal with his own terrified, choking breaths. To deal with hands and heart trembling so badly both start to go numb.

But they have left him, and he needs to find his own way out of it.

He better be quick too, he thinks hazily though the terror, doing his best to work through the panic and find a course of action to focus on. He didn't know how much sand Wilbur had piled out there, if it was too thick and settled in the cobble it may become impossible to breathe, so he needed to hurry, needed to stop breathing in quick, panting gasps.

There had to be some way out without going through the hole he made in. 

He knew the potato farm was close by, through the stone walls, somewhere in the direction his head was pointed, but how to get there? He had dropped his pickaxe before starting to place things, and he had no idea where it was now. Beyond that, how was he even supposed to get his body out of the position he was in so he could orient himself that way and have the force he needed to mine through.

His leg was stuck because of the center pillar, that was priority one, he decides. He needed a way to break the piston so the pillar would retract.

He grimaces, putting all of the force he could against the platform with his free knee and the arm opposite it as he blindly reaches toward the middle of the machine and fumbles with the bolts holding the platform to the pillar. He feels a faint glimmer of hope when something loosens under his grip, and he clings to it to push against it like a lifeline. There's a tense moment of frustrated breaths as he puts as much force into it as he can manage before it snaps free and the force behind his arm takes it past the unsanded material. He knows pain should be blossoming in his hand and forearm as they it cuts through them like butter, but they're so numb he scarcely feels it.

He doesn't have time to dwell on the lack of pain and the liquid he feels run down his skin though, because as soon as it's broken the center column retreats to the box, freeing his leg, yes, but also leaving him alone with the weight of the platform and the cobblestones Wilbur had placed atop him.

It takes a few moments of panic and trembling at the weight he supported above him before a plan hesitantly creeps into his brain. The platform was currently his shield, his barrier between him and the rocks. Rocks that had only been thrown on haphazardly and loosely, with no proper stacking or a binding agent. He feels his trembling and panting calm as the plan forms and the helplessness of his situation becomes more manageable. Now he just had to-

He moves in slow, precise motions. Bringing his legs up closer to his body, slowly working himself upright and as close to the solid rock near his head as he could, tilting the platform as he went to shift the rocks toward the space he was leaving. Relief so powerful it nearly makes him cry sweeps over him as he feels the weight of the rocks fall away from the top of the board as he pushes up, and suddenly he his standing, having flipped his horizontal space for vertical.

He can work with this, with not having the weight hanging above him, and having the leverage that comes with standing up. His head clears out marginally, and he revises his plan as he takes in the level ceiling his head was pressed against. Surely, even if there was sand out there, the slope it'd make flowing into this hole would still leave his head free, right? And it would probably take less time than trying to dig through to the potato farm.

So he sets to work, pushing on the highest cobblestones first, where the pile would hopefully be thinnest and lightest. Ignoring the little prickles of terror as the sand rushes past his hands to pile on the floor below as he works. Ignoring the way that without the immediate threat of death feeling starts to creep back into his hands and arms and the gash on his palm and arm pulse with nauseating pain at his every movement and shift of the rocks. Ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes as he finally breaks through the top and light shines in on him and he's granted a reprieve from having to think about his potential suffocation as the musty air of the cavern hits him and he suddenly realizes how light headed he's been getting, between blood loss and the restricted air flow.

He does take a moment, then, to observe the awful gash on his arm, to rip his clothing and do his best to clean out the sand that's settled in it before wrapping it tightly before continuing to free himself.

And when it's done and he stumbles out and sinks down against the cavern walls no one is around to see him break down as the fear and pain drowns him now that he was safe and the adrenaline was gone. No one sees him sob in relief as he takes in air and light like he was starving for it. No one will see him when it comes back that night to lock him in again in his dreams, and no one will see the way his hands will shake and he'll have to swallow panic for months every time he goes mining in tight places or every time the dark presses in on him and makes him feel trapped all over again.

When his brothers and friend return from their journey a few days later, having actually gone to talk to Phil, he can only hope they won't see, won't notice either as it dawns on him all over that he could have actually died in there and they wouldn't have come back to him for days. Won't see and won't notice how he links the terror of the experience to them and is somehow both quieter to escape notice and impossibly louder in an effort to defend himself from his own fear of them. Won't see and won't notice the aversion of his eyes and the way he actively goes out of his way to avoid Wilbur. Won't notice that the trust in the few people he had left has slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on a second part where he is forced to confront Wil and is like "hey that was kinda messed up I could have died" and Wil has a Moment of Realization TM? Probably will end up hurt comfort then lol


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how like everyone in the comments was just sharing my braincell. Y'all are great :')
> 
> And thank you Starry for dialogue ideas, even if it didn't quite turn out how you said it lol

It's a week and a half before Tommy is confident enough in the healing of the wound to take off the bandages. After he had made it (mostly) safely, ( _physically_ , at least) out of there his panic had overwhelmed him and he ended up passing out leaned up against one of the cave walls after it subsided. He counted himself lucky that he had just enough presence of mind (or maybe caring for wounds was just reflex for him now?) to go though the basics of sanitizing it when he woke up again before dragging himself to his room for an awful night's sleep. He counts himself doubly so that it somehow hadn't festered with infection despite it being cut by dirty metal and filled with sand and then left to steep in his own blood for several hours before he had cleaned it. He does not count himself lucky at all when he considers that it never would have happened in the first place if the people he was supposed to be able to trust hadn't done what they had.

He scarcely knew if it was even safe for him to be in Pogtopia anymore. The way Wilbur was currently acting didn't help clear it up in the slightest.

The wound, although thankfully free of infection, did scab nastily. A long, thin line of dry, raised skin that was now clearly visible without the bandages. He felt Wilbur's eyes on it every time it was uncovered while they were near each other, and Tommy felt nauseous with fear the first time he had looked at Wilbur's face since the incident and caught him staring at it with a seething rage in his eyes.

Tommy expected quips and laughing that he had gotten himself hurt, not anger. Not a burning gaze that watched his every move, two after he watched Wilbur bring Techno's attention to it, his two brothers sat close together on the bridges above him, quietly whispering between themselves. He is sure it would be three if Tubbo was around more, and he finds himself _glad_ that his friend (was he a friend? Did Tommy still trust him that much?) was working under Schlatt's iron gaze.

It felt like war all over again. Like knowing Dream could be watching from the trees at any moment, like death was constantly a mere moment away. Like any person could turn on him at any time. Eret had already proved that. The fear creeps at him at all times, and Pogtopia, once his safe haven from Schlatt, becomes every bit as terrifying as creeping around the remains of Manburg, of his nation, of the home he was exiled from.

He doesn't notice the change in his behavior, not really. But the fear turns into a lack of sleep turns into him being so much more likely to snap at anyone who approached, intending to hurt them and drive them away and mean every word he'd say despite the way his chest ached and his eyes stung. His wariness of Wilbur and Techno turns into avoidance and a frosty persona he builds turns into him actively trying to escape any situation with them involved and building ever higher walls around his terrified heart.

He does notice how it only seems to aggravate Wilbur and Techno more that he always finds excuses and ways to slip away whenever one or both attempt to corner him. He does notice because he's no longer sure if they try and corner him to talk to him or to hurt him, and he's not taking chances.

_(Maybe, says the part of his head that knows that these are his brothers and is desperately trying to rationalize what they did, maybe you need to talk to them.)_

_(Maybe, the part of his brain that expects blood and betrayal and hurt says, maybe they want you dead.)_

But as good as Tommy is at the game of cat and mouse, as often as he escapes, it isn't always possible. Eventually the cat will win.

It happens when he's starting a strip mine from their ravine. He's so concentrated on reminding himself the stone is solid and wouldn't fall in on him, so concentrated on keeping his hands from shaking too badly to swing the pick and do his job (Maybe that would be the thing that put Wil over the edge with him, maybe a job was the difference between them keeping him alive.) so concentrated on just functioning normally that he doesn't even hear Wilbur approach the entrance of his tunnel.

It's stupid, really. That should have been the one thing he was most concentrated on, but he's pinned now, and the only way out was through Wilbur or through the solid rock around him. One of those seemed much safer, if much longer, but unfortunately for him the other is pacing down his tunnel towards him and he doesn't have near the time he needs.

So, without much other choice, he shakily faces down his approaching enemy. He grips his pick so tightly his knuckles must turn white, but he finds he can't take his eyes off Wilbur to see, because Wilbur looks _pissed_ , and Tommy knows he needs to get out of there, _now_.

He walks toward Wil, trying his best to look casual and annoyed, as if Wilbur was only a minor inconvenience instead of a presence that was making all his carefully crafted walls against the panic fall. He reaches out his arm, (his injured arm, he realizes belatedly) to try and push past Wilbur to the safety of the mouth of the tunnel.

Unfortunately, Wilbur has other plans. His own arm flashes out and his hand catches Tommy's wrist in a crushing grip.

"Tommy." Wilbur says, and his voice is angry and sharp.

"Fuck off Wilbur." He snarls in return, "Let me go."

Wilbur does not. Wilbur tightens his grip to the point Tommy hears something in his own wrist click and pop. To the point Tommy is almost sure it will bruise. To the point it tugs the skin of his forearm just enough for him to feel some of the closer scabs crack.

He feels the first beads of blood.

"Tommy, who hurt you?"

He feels pain shooting up his arm. He feels walls pushing in, crushing him into nothing. He feels Wilbur's eyes piecing into his own, filled with a burning anger that isn't fully imagined. He feels terror. He feels tears on his cheeks. He feels everything and nothing at all.

"Tommy?"

He needs to get out.

He twists Wilbur's arm and throws him off.

_He needs to get out_. Get _away_.

He runs.

\---

Wilbur, for his part, is confused and angry.

When he returns from Phil he finds his little brother with a hastily wrapped arm. Mobs, he justifies to himself, Tommy must have been fighting mobs while they were away. He sees the prominence in the bags under Tommy's eyes, the way sleep seems even harder for him now. He justifies to himself that none of them have had a good sleep schedules in a long time and he isn't one to judge. He sees the jumpiness and hesitance Tommy has, even (maybe even especially) when they were together in Pogtopia. He justifies that Tommy has every right to be, the affects of war were different for them all.

But the bandages come off eventually, and Wilbur stops justifying things.

He sees the way the wound is long and straight and looks awfully much like it's been a cut by metal, a cut by a sword. He sees the way Tommy ducks his eyes away and avoids showing the wound and avoids Wilbur in general, and it feels too much like the way Tommy acts when he's trying to hide something he's ashamed of. Wilbur sees the way Tommy flinches when Techno sharpens his weapons, and he knows with certainty that someone has injured his little brother while he was gone.

And that pisses him off.

But Tommy is difficult to pin down when he was hiding something, and even more difficult to get information out of. It frustrates Wilbur to no end that Tommy refuses to speak to him, keeps slipping away with obvious lies and excuses, keeps denying Wilbur of the chance to ask who had done it. Who had hurt him.

And now, when he finally managed to get Tommy, he had watched his little brother shatter in front of him. He had watched the fear in him lead to tears. Had watched him run.

Run away from _him_. And he was just sat here staring at the wall where Tommy used to be.

The thought comes and goes and he wastes another precious moment before his body kicks into gear and he's racing after Tommy, running up and across the narrow bridges and up through the twisting stairs. Hoping he isn't too late to catch Tommy again before he's gone.

Though he thinks the thought of Tommy being gone, he isn't prepared at all for the reality he stumbles into at the top of the stairs. Tommy is in front of him, quivering hands pulling his items from the enderchest, armor haphazardly strapped to him, sword and bow over his back, looking for all the world ready to bolt and vanish forever.

Wilbur grabs him again before he even realizes he's moving, and words that sound harsher than he intends come up through his throat. "Where do you think you're going?"

Tommy trembles as he stands there, and his tears still run, but his eyes meet Wilbur's with a faux, terrified confidence and ice.

"Away." He spits, and his voice shakes, "Where I don't have to worry about being betrayed anymore."

"W-" He begins, and cuts himself off just as quickly, confused by the tears and the accusation and the panic he can see taking over. He lowers his voice cautiously and proceeds slowly as his usual smooth words leave him to struggle with what to say, but he finally gets out "I would never betray you, Tommy, we're brothers."

"We aren't brothers Wil! Brothers don't try and kill each other. Brothers don't dump cobble on each other when they're trapped. Brothers don't leave each other to _die._ "

He counts himself lucky that as shock makes his grasp weaken enough for Tommy to flee Techno happens to walk in through the door. He counts himself lucky that Techno has the perception and reaction time to see their crying little brother and grab him before he could slip away. He counts himself lucky that Techno is so much stronger than he or Tommy and easily restrains him, looking to Wilbur for answers.

He does not think he's lucky when Tommy's scared and frustrated tears turn into shaking gasps and terrified sobs at the constricting hold. He does not think he's lucky when Techno notices and releases Tommy, and Tommy doesn't even have it in him to continue to try and escape, but rather just stumbles away until his shoulder collides with a wall with enough force that it must hurt, and his little brother drops to the ground to curl in on himself. He does not think he's lucky when he moves forward, kneels down beside the heaving form and gingerly touches Tommy's shoulder, only for him to jerk away violently enough to make it seem as if he'd been struck. He does not think he's lucky when Techno settles on the bed somewhere behind them and they both sit in still and silence as their brother shakes and cries in front of them, both trying to figure out what to do in this situation. This was much more something that Phil would know how to handle then either of them.

He thinks he may be a little bit when it eventually starts to resolve itself, leaving Tommy left slumped against the wall in a defeated exhaustion.

He shuffles until he's sure he's in Tommy's view, and it hurts when Tommy sees him and his eyes close and his nose scrunches up and Wilbur is sure that more tears would fall if Tommy had them left or the energy to shed them with.

"Tommy?" He tries, as gently as he can, trying to keep his own tremors out of it.

"Why, Wil." Tommy rasps in reply, weak and pained and scratchy from crying, "Why would you leave me. I could have died Wilbur."

It takes a moment for him to realize what Tommy is talking about. That his brother is talking about how he blocked him in, ignoring the worry and pain on his face and in his voice. He had pretty much already forgotten about the interaction, some part of him thinking it entirely inconsequential. Just another little petty thing that came of a bad mood.

What had he been _thinking._

Tommy could have died in there, alone and trapped and scared.

"Oh god, Toms." He says, and his voice quivers, "I'm so sorry."

He reaches out again, wanting to do something, anything for his brother, but stops midway, remembering how violently Tommy had reacted to his touch before.

But Tommy must hear his movements, or must have some sixth sense that alerts him, because his eyes force themselves open again, and his hand also raises as if to grab Wilbur's. A moment hangs between them where Wilbur can only see a younger Tommy in the action. He sees the way he would come into his room in the dead of night after nightmares and look at Wilbur with exhaustion and fear and hesitantly put his hand out until Wilbur would pull him into the bed and let him sleep there for the night. And although that moment isn't now, he does take Tommy's hand. He sees the exhaustion, the way his brother teeters on the edge of passing out, so he scoops him up as best he can and lifts him off the ground.

He sees the mistrust and fear even through the haze of Tommy's exhaustion. He sees the subtle change in Techno's expressions, one most people outside their family would miss, that betrays guilt and worry of his own.

He silently promises to himself and his brothers that they would talk about it as soon as Tommy woke up. That he would find some way to apologize, to make himself worth trusting again.

But for now, he turns sideways to gently bump Techno with his shoulder without disturbing Tommy, and when Techno takes the hint and lays down on the bed he settles down as well. He drapes their younger brother to sprawl over them both. He sees Techno gingerly weave his hands through Tommy's hair, building tiny little braids, and hopes that they'll come out of this alright in the end. Even, he thinks, if he may not really deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignore how it was formatted entirely wrong the first time I posted it lol, I'm Exhausted
> 
> Another edit, it Still was fucked up somehow, hopefully I got it right this time lmao  
> A note, while I'm here, third chapter may happen? We'll have to see what happens after I sleep and am no longer brain dead :) Also y'all's comments make me so happy I'm glad you enjoy my bs


	3. Chapter 3

Tommy wakes up feeling warm. Feeling safe. 

And that _terrifies_ him. 

It's his first clue that something is terribly wrong. He hasn't woken up feeling either those things in a long time, and he knows he especially shouldn't be waking up to them now. Not when he didn't have safety, not when everyone had betrayed him. He hadn't even felt those things when he still had some people to trust. Even on the nights when nightmares refused to fade or when scars burned with supposedly healed pain and he or Tubbo would sneak into each others beds for an anchor to reality they would still manage to kick the covers off by the time they woke up.

His second clue is that he still feels tired. Not in sense of too little sleep -he's long used to that from sleepless nights spent endlessly preparing, endlessly fighting- but in the sense that his body doesn't respond to him right away. It terrifies him, honestly, because war had trained his mind and body to wake up quickly. War brought fear. Betrayal brought fear. Pain brought fear. And fear had long ago taught him to be fully awake and ready to defend himself within a split second of being woken up.

His third is that he has so much trouble deciphering his surroundings. Through his fuzzy and unresponsive body he feels two bodies beneath him, two sets of soft, even breathing. He feels a set of arms around his midsection, and another, much stronger, set that is split up with one over his shoulders and the other resting a hand in his hair. He feels his own arms wrapped around one of the people below him, and feels his face is buried in the fabric of the clothing on them. He feels confusion for the way his subconscious recognizes this as something undeniably safe while at the same time screaming that he was staring his death in the face.

And as soon as he thinks about death the information he was lacking slams into him like a brick wall. He fights to keep his breath steady so he doesn't wake them as he feels walls pressing in on him, feels death moments away. Feels Wilbur's manic gaze on him and feels how similar it was to the way Schlatt looked at him as he ordered him exiled and killed. How similar it was to the way Eret looked at him as he abandoned him to bleed out. How similar that felt to Dream staring at him with the intent to kill as he loaded his bow. He felt pain as he related all of those to the way those people had taken him in, had been close friends, family to him. Feels Dream's wheezing laughter and his calloused hands ruffling his hair. Feels Eret's deep voice making him laugh as he slung an arm around his shoulder. Feels Schlatt teaching him how to manage wealth and power and people. Feels Wilbur being his support, his big brother. Feels Wilbur looking at him with pride. Feels Wilbur's soft and confused voice from last night. Feels how he had tried to touch Tommy's shoulder and feels how it had felt like fire-hot metal laid on his skin even through his clothes.

When he is done feeling he finds his body becomes as awake as his mind as the fear does its job.

He once again takes to the task of regulating his breathing and slowing his heartbeat, trying to figure out how to escape this situation without waking them. Trying to ignore the way this felt every bit as dangerous and terrifying as being trapped under the pistons. Trying to ignore that he had just as little room for error this time, maybe even less.

He allows his eyes to open a bit so he can get a better look at his situation. Seeing Wilbur and Techno still asleep he starts to slowly move himself. He takes it incredibly slowly, nearly loses control of his breathing as the one of Techno's arms around his shoulder tightens for a moment when he moves, nearly panics when Wilbur shifts with a huff as he pulls free. But with precision and caution heightened by terror and adrenaline he slowly manages to free himself, and within a few moments is stood by the bed, free of his brothers.

_His brothers._ He thinks, and it echoes around his head as he quietly gathers up the materials and armor he had been collecting last night.

_His brothers._ He thinks, as he takes maybe a bit longer than he needs sorting things out. Tightening straps on armor he could have fixed on the way.

_His brothers._ He thinks, standing by the door and staring at their tangled forms on the bed, a whole different fear creeping up on him. It had been a long time since he had been well and truly alone, since Phil had taken him in.

He does debate going to Phil, but if his brothers could betray him then surely Phil could too. And they must have told Phil while they were there, so maybe it was for the better he didn't put enough trust in him to go there.

He wasn't sure he could handle another person he trusted, he _loved_ , betraying him. 

He turns around and puts his fingers on the doorknob, tightening them and turning and it almost feels wrong to leave his brothers (his brothers, _his brothers_ ) so quietly, he almost expects them to wake up and fight his leaving again. His heart crawls up in his throat at the thought though, and without looking back he slips away, darting away toward Manburg and the SMP with the intentions to pick some things up from the embassy before he truly leaves this place, these people, behind. 

He gets far into the hills and trees before he lets himself relax, lets his breathing change from carefully measured for stealth to the shuddering hiccups that have wanted to come up since he woke. Lets the trembles work up his spine and lets himself slow to a halt to shiver and pant and shake. Lets himself really feel the panic the way he knows he needs to before it will leave him again.

But of course, as soon as he thinks he is safe from trouble, trouble finds him.

It takes the form of his best friend (No, they couldn't be best friends, could they? He can't trust Tubbo anymore, he _can't,_ no matter how much he would like to) happening to take the same path as him on his way to report to Wilbur. He's lucky enough to hear him first, so he has a moment to compose himself as best he could, but it isn't near enough time for him to get himself away and out of sight. He sees Tubbo stop, sees Tubbo see him, sees Tubbo come towards him with a wide grin that melts off his face the closer he got and the more he inspected Tommy.

Tommy sees him look over the items he carried, the way he carried himself, the way his breathing wasn't really under control. He knows Tubbo knows what Tommy intends to do, Tubbo had always been able to read him like an open book. (He attempts to push down the bitter thoughts of _why he didn't that time. Why didn't he see the terror, or why he had chosen to ignore it. Why didn't he help_?)

He hates that he can read Tubbo as well in this moment, because he can see the betrayed terror that haunted his past weeks reflected back at him, and it _hurts._ It could have almost been comical how quickly the tables were turned if it wasn't for how Tubbo trembled as he took in Tommy. If it wasn't for how Tommy's chest ached as if he had been trapped underwater for days and was only just surfacing for air he desperately needed. If it wasn't for how Tommy was hurting Tubbo in the same way he sought to protect himself from.

Hurting Tubbo. He was hurting _Tubbo. His Tubbo._

_(I know you trust him, Tommy.)_

_(I can tell because, he's your Tubbo!)_

And never has Wil being right hurt more. He does trust Tubbo, he knows Tubbo. He knows Tubbo could never fake the emotions Tommy sees in him right now, that the hurt Tommy has been suffering under wasn't something to be feigned even if Tubbo was good at lying and pretending.

_(I know you trust him, Tommy.)_

And it has never hurt more for Tubbo to be the braver of the pair. For him to not run from this the way Tommy would, or scream and insult and belittle him the way Tommy would, for him to not confirm all of Tommy's worst fears. No, Tubbo puts his shaking hands up placatingly and creeps toward him like he was an injured animal, and Tommy finds that quite fitting. He feels a bit like a wild creature, backed into a corner, waiting for the inevitable.

But he trusts Tubbo, he trusts Tubbo a lot.

He swings the pack he had made over his shoulder and watches it fall to the ground. Watches as Tubbo seems to be able to breathe again. Watches as the fear in him dulls a little bit, and the hesitance in his steps doesn't hold him in place as long. Watches as Tubbo picks up his pace as he comes the rest of the way and takes Tommy's hands in his. Watches as Tubbo searches him for emotion, and Tommy knows he won't find it because the feeling of Tubbo's warm hands in his lets the terror slip away, and it takes anything else he was feeling with it.

He has never felt more exhausted and empty, completely exposed. Brittle, breakable. He knows he is lucky Tubbo knows how to be careful when it counts.

His best friend (They _must_ be best friends. He trusts Tubbo.) gently coaxes him to the forest floor and they sit there quietly for a long moment before Tubbo's hands start to shake again, before Tommy sees a return of his reflected fear. He doesn't need to be able to feel emotions for him to open his arms out of habit, for him to close them again when Tubbo shifts and falls into them.

They sit like that for a long time. Long enough for Tubbo to get his breathing under control, and long enough that he eventually stops shaking so badly as well. Long enough that some off-brand, diluted form of emotion creeps back to Tommy's exhausted heart and mind. (And if, when it does, he tightens his hold on Tubbo a bit and lets his head rest in Tubbo's hair, neither of them comment.) Long enough for the midday sun Tommy had left under to sink low enough in the sky that the trees cast cold shadows over the pair.

"I need to report to Wilbur. I'll need to get back to Schlatt eventually." Tubbo says finally.

They both unwillingly stand, Tubbo keeping a hold of one of Tommy's hands, and Tommy doesn't complain when the grip tightens when he picks up his pack again. It isn't the time to tease Tubbo for being clingy, not when he knew Tubbo was afraid, and Tommy honestly doesn't really want to talk anyway.

Tubbo hesitates, and his voice shakes when he quietly forces out, "Tommy, if I hadn't run into you what would have happened?"

He squeezes Tubbo's palm and start walking back toward Pogtopia, his lack of an answer speaking more words then he knew how to voice to his friend (His _friend_ ) in that moment.

Tommy doesn't want to run anymore. He doesn't want to be alone, not really. He doesn't want to loose his best friend. He doesn't want to loose his brothers either. Techno may be safe at least, he rationalizes to himself as they approach, maybe Techno and Tubbo weren't able to see his face from where they were, maybe they couldn't hear him clearly. It was pretty dark, and sand and stone can muffle a lot. He trusts Tubbo so by extension he trusts Techno, he tells himself. And if he trusts Techno, then Techno could protect him from Wilbur and he wouldn't have to give up the two people he still had.

Two only, not three, because Wilbur didn't have an excuse. He doesn't trust Wilbur, he doesn't know if he ever will.

Standing on the outskirts of the trees near Pogtopia he reconsiders.

Wilbur is sat heavily on the edge of the hole they stabled Fundy's horse in, he's facing them, but his eyes are fixed thoroughly downward. Tommy has never seen his brother look so defeated and exhausted, not even on the day they were supposed to surrender to Dream. He sees the tearstains on Wil's cheeks and the way his shoulders sagged with invisible weight. The way his boots were caked with dirt and the space where he usually paced when he needed fresh air was worn to a muddy path. Techno emerges from the cave, and ambles over to sit beside Wilbur. The two huddle together and Tommy can't see Wilbur as much of a threat like that.

He preps himself mentally, what would he say if he was just Tommy right now? Not scared, not emotionally and mentally exhausted, just Tommy.

"Who died?" He asks, stepping out of the tree line.

And it doesn't matter if the words are in poor taste, because two heads snap up to face him. Wilbur bounds to his feet in a single movement and makes as if he was going to rush toward Tommy. He stops, however, because he must see the way Tommy flinches from him. From excitement that could be seen in the mind's eye as something more sinister. A touch of hurt crosses him, but he stays away, and the relief in him from just seeing Tommy is near-tangible.

_Maybe_ , Tommy thinks again. Because surely there was no way Wilbur would have been that devastated if he wanted him dead. Surely he wouldn't be this relieved at his return. Surely he wouldn't respect Tommy's signals and space.

Maybe. Maybe he could give Wilbur another chance. Maybe.

After all, if Wilbur really wanted him dead he could have done it when he pinned Tommy yesterday, could have done it while Tommy was panicking and couldn't run, could have done it while Tommy was asleep.

Maybe. Maybe he could still have all three. Maybe.

Him deciding on it doesn't really help the uneasiness he feels when Wilbur smiles and approaches when Tommy cautiously opens his arms. It doesn't fix the terror of looking into eyes that could have been the last he'd seen.

But when all three of them close around Tommy in a group hug and he feels warm and safe in the center, it does mean feeling those two things don't terrify him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! This is for sure the final chapter. Sorry it took such a long time lol, I'm Awful at making myself sit down and actually write stuff. I hope y'all liked it, and thank you all again for the kind comments :')
> 
> That said, I've seen that there's October challenges going around? My dumbass can't find the promptlist but if y'all have it (or them, am down to have more than one to pick and choose from!) I'd be thrilled to have it so I'll have things to do for October :o
> 
> Hope y'all have a good night <3
> 
> Edit note: I really need to stop posting at 2am when I'll keep fucking up the formatting lol, also the tags I added have the word 'y'all' in them which should speak for how tired I was itself


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